So it’s the night after. Or almost. Poor Laurel had to run for her life or risk being fucked to death by a rampant co–. Okay, not really, but I bet that got your attention. Anyway, let’s just say in this unedited snippet, Laurel does run, but our alpha Sam is in hot pursuit…
She winced a little when she sat in the hot water; her flesh felt tender. Thankfully it faded quickly and she dunked her hair, wanting to be completely clean, to not smell him on her. She had once or twice on the way home, as though he’d soaked into her pores. She sighed. At least the urge to cry had dried up.
God, the water felt good. Slowly, she began to relax. She lounged until her eye lids got heavy, then gave herself a quick wash. She thought seriously about refilling the tub with hot water, but she was too tired. That’s all she needed was to drown after being damn near fucked to death by her heartless boss.
She jerked in the water, her heart speeding up. Someone knocked again, impatiently.
“Wrong apartment,” she called out, rinsing quickly. It happened occasionally. She was right by the elevator. Drunk people had confused her with her neighbor across the hall a few times.
“Open this fucking door, Laurel.”
Sam! She rose, nearly slipping in her rush to get out of the tub. How had he gotten in? What the hell does that matter? He was here now.
“Laurel, open this door. Don’t make me wake up your neighbors.”
She wrapped her soaking hair and threw on her robe, a ratty terry cloth thing she’d had for ages that was never supposed to see company but kept her wonderfully warm. Typical Sam to have her at a complete disadvantage. She nursed this anger as she opened her locks.
He pushed past her immediately.
“What the fuck?”
Good, he was pissed.
“I might say the same thing. It’s kind of late for a visit.”
“Or early, depending on how you look at it, and this isn’t a fucking visit. Why’d you sneak out like that? And why didn’t you answer your fucking phone? I thought you’d been murdered and thrown off that bullshit ass train you like so much.”
She glared at him, irrationally angry that he looked so good when she felt like shit. “I didn’t answer because I didn’t wanna talk.”
“Are you gonna let me in, or do I have to stand in the doorway?”
She glared at him. Then sighed. Jesus she didn’t feel like dealing with this. “Take your shoes off,” she said reluctantly.
“If you don’t want me here I can go.”
“I don’t want you here,” she said baldly. She didn’t. It was a small space, and it was her sanctuary. Before he arrived, it was, or it had been, free of any kind of taint. He would haunt the place forever if he stayed.
He raised a brow.
“Look, I’m sorry I’m being rude. But it’s late. I’m tired. Can’t we just talk later?”
“I wanna sleep with you.”
She reared back, and just like that his ire faded and he laughed. He raised his hands in front of him like he was harmless.
“Jesus, if you could see your face. You’d think I was a rapist the way you’re looking at me. Just sleep; we don’t have to have sex, alright?”
She eyed him, obviously not believing him for a second.
He crossed his heart. “Scouts honor?”
“Were you really a boy scout?”
“For a bit. I dropped out,” he admitted. “I’m not much of a team player.”
No shit. …